Harry Potter and the Curse of Pueblo Bonito
by wolfpackof1
Summary: ALTERNATE TIMELINE - Harry, Ron, and Hermione choose to do a semester abroad for the first part of their seventh year. They will be protected and receive specialized training at the New Mexico Field College of Magic that will aid them in the ultimate battle at year end.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Petunia's Prounouncement

In his dream he was sitting in the bleachers facing the quidditch pitch, watching an even stranger contest than the usual youth on broomsticks racing around like flies. It was a game of tug-of-war: on one side was a hooded figure in dark robes, showing only thin white hands that gripped a snake's tail. On the head end of the serpent was a familiar man, recognizable though grotesquely distorted. The man was dressed in a shabby tweed suit, darned and torn in countless places, but had the head and hands (paws? claws?) of a ferocious, snarling werewolf.

The beast was giving the snake a real run for its money; he had slashed it twice, and nearly knocked out one of its lethal fangs. Upon seeing the tide of the struggle beginning to change, the cloaked opponent downfield raised a hand slowly, deliberately; without warning a turquoise light shot from his skeletal palm and struck the werewolf right in his goddamn solar plexus.

He opened his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed, heart racing. At that moment Harry Potter knew he must complete his seventh and final year of schooling before he could face Lord Voldemort and hope to defeat him permanently.

As far as summer holidays went, this one could have been much worse. Harry had been dreading his return to 4 Privet Drive more than he could ever remember. The heavy ache of losing the beloved Headmaster Albus Dumbledore a month earlier had sunk into his chest painfully, like an iron charge through soft lithosphere, settling around his heart that had gone cold when he had to stop seeing Ginny. The Dark Lord was amassing power and followers like the proverbial pig among guinea pigs, and the Dementors were breeding – fog and despair permeated the land.

So it was easy to see why Harry would have been loath to return to his hated old haunt. Yet surprisingly, the Dursleys had actually mellowed out some. Dudley would nod at Harry politely when they passed, and had even let him choose what to watch on television a couple of times; Petunia seemed constantly on the verge of tears and Harry would look up to find her staring at him oddly or slipping an extra piece of bacon on his plate at breakfast. Vernon…well, he really just ignored Harry completely. Neither uncle or nephew could foresee a future in which they acted even more civilly than that towards each other. Harry mostly spent his days reading, helping his aunt in the garden, and occasionally tagging along with Dudley to his volunteer job at the Boys and Girls Club of Greater Surrey. And he constantly debated with himself whether to do one more year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry or to drop out and hunt Voldemort and the Horcruxes full time.

Harry had agonized over the decision for weeks now, aided by the counsel of his two best friends in the world, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They had sworn to stick with him no matter what he chose, but were staunch advocates of opposing sides. Ron was all for abandoning school completely and striking out on their own. ("Think, Harry! No more curfews! Or homework! Harry, _no Potions class ever again_!") Hermione, meanwhile, was utterly appalled that he would even _consider_ the possibility. To her, dropping out of school was unthinkable, a heinous crime on par with vandalizing the Ministry of Magic (oh, wait…) or brewing illegal potions (…um…) or getting in a fistfight (well, this is awkward). Harry smiled, thinking of his friends' disparate reactions; and briefly wondered if they had kept in touch over the summer. They had parted ways a month ago at the end of the term with polite words, averted glances, and a sexual tension you couldn't cut through with a diamond drill. Harry sighed and sat down at his desk with a quill and two scraps of parchment. He quickly dashed off two copies of the same letter:

Hi-

Decided I'm going back to school. Will explain more later

-Harry

To Ron's, he added a quick postscript: I hope you've at least been WRITING to Hermione? –H.

Satisfied, he stood up and crossed his room in two strides. He labeled the missives and left them on the sill of the open window right by his owl Hedwig's cage. He'd seen very little of her recently and wondered where in the heck she was hanging out so much lately, anyway…

The next day Hedwig was still nowhere to be found, but there were two letters with "Harry" written on them, one in a neat cursive and one in a nearly illegible scrawl. Excited to see what his friends had to say about his decision, Harry reached for Hermione's letter first. The penmanship in it would have made any teacher beam and read:

Dear Harry,

I am so pleased to hear that you've decided to do your last year at Hogwarts! I don't need to tell you that school is extremely important, and you'll be much more prepared to face Voldemort in a year, especially with all the graduation training we'll be receiving. I'm incredibly glad for you – do you know, I was actually a tiny bit worried you were going to drop out! – and if anyone tries to criticize your decision know I am behind you one hundred percent. It's good to hear from you, and I hope you are well.

Love, Hermione

P.S. you haven't heard from Ron recently, have you?

Harry sat back in his seat and rolled his eyes. Typical Hermione, still convincing him that the decision he already made was correct. And what was this about not hearing from Ron? Harry fervently hoped, for all three of their sakes, that his best friend was _not_ screwing this one up. He tore open Ron's note, which was written on the back of a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes mail order form, and scanned the page:

Harry-

I hope you're making the right choice, mate. I mean, think – instead of listening to Binns drone on, we could actually be out there, doing something! I guess it'll be OK, though! At least this way we won't have to answer to my mother about why we're not going back to Hogwarts. You know how those angry women terrify me. Speaking of, no, I haven't been in touch with Hermione – I mean really, I don't even know what I'd say. Why? Has she said anything about me?

Mum says you both can come the week of your birthday to spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow. So, we'll see you in three weeks! Cheer up, you can stick it out! You'll be here for the wedding!

-Ron

At the bottom was a hasty scribble that looked as though it had been written much later. It was full of inkblots and cross-outs as though the writer had thought and rethought the message numerous times. In the end, though, it simply said:

Harry – you're coming to the Burrow, right? GW

Harry's heart raced a bit at the postscript. Ginny hoped he was coming? That was good, right – she didn't hate him for breaking up with her? Then he chided himself silently – he couldn't have any of that, it wasn't good for either of them. Still , a tiny part of him couldn't help his excitement at seeing Ginny again…

That night at dinner, Harry cleared his throat to get the Dursleys' attention in the reigning awkward silence. His uncle grunted and passed him the potatoes.

"Oh - er, no, thank you," said Harry. He had momentarily forgotten that he had actually just hailed Vernon in their newly established method of communication. The larger man eyed his nephew suspiciously for a moment, then grunted again and went back to eating. Harry continued.

"Er, I just wanted to let you know, um…well, I'll be going to my friend Ron Weasley's in a few weeks, and going straight back to Hog- er, I mean, school, from there."

Dudley looked up and met Harry's eyes and nodded, his face mild, then continued to follow his father's ingestinal attitude. Petunia, meanwhile, looked up sharply and pursed her lips, and then blurted unexpectedly, "Would – would you like help packing? Or cleaning Hedwig's cage?"

Harry had to work to keep his jaw from crashing to the impeccably scrubbed white linoleum floor. He had realized they had been on much better terms than ever before, but still…while the offer to help pack could almost be written off as a subtle attempt to get him out quicker, to clean Hedwig's cage was another matter entirely. Harry knew his aunt hated his owl and the horrible pellet-and-rodent-entrails collection that inevitably followed any bird of prey. So for Petunia to make such an offer was to say the least unheard of indeed. Why would she do that? Harry realized he was just gaping at his aunt dumbly and managed to stammer out an acceptance to her suggestion before hastily offering to clear the table. What exactly was going on?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - McGonagall Supplies a Suggestion

Ron peered out the window for the nine hundredth time in so many minutes. _She's almost here_ , he thought, then coughed out loud. _I mean, the weather. Would you look at those storm clouds._

Three floors below the door opened, and high pitched squeals floated up to Ron's enormous ears

His heartbeat picked up a few bpm.

 _She's here._

It was several tense days - specifically, three dinners, four breakfasts and teas and one extraordinarily awkward run-in on the hall landing outside the bathroom one night - before Harry arrived at the Burrow to cut the tightrope-over-Niagara tension between Ron and Hermione.

They were gathered in Ron's room that night, hotly discussing the pros and cons of dropping out of school versus returning for a seventh year, when Molly appeared at the door. The three quickly fell silent, noticing her swallowed-a-lemon expression that Harry at least recognized as a favorite in Aunt Petunia's repertoire. It was for this reason that he was the first to respond-

"What have we done wrong, Mrs. Weasley?"

She knitted her brows at the trio, then gestured to come along. "Come along," she said. "There's someone here to see you."

Minerva McGonagall was seated in the living room, perched primly on an armchair. "Hello, you three," she said, not unfondly, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into the room.

"Hello, Professor," the three murmured, taking seats on the couch opposite McGonagall.

"I don't have much time this evening, so I'll get right to the point. I know you three are considering dropping out of school and I'm here to offer an alternative option."

Hermione, least sold on the whole 'teen dropouts plan', was most intrigued and first to respond. "Could we receive specialized training at Hogwarts this year?"

"Yes and no," McGonagall answered. "I'm hoping that you will agree to receive your specialized training abroad - in America."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione could not have been more shocked if they had encountered a Tazer, ironically popular in the U.S.

The first to speak was Harry. "What can America offer us that we couldn't do either at Hogwarts or going out there and fighting directly?"

"Safety," McGonagall responded bluntly. "There is nowhere in Britain where you would be safe from the forces of evil if you were out on your own. And specialized training. In America you will be able to hone specific skills that will aid you in your ultimate struggle. Yes, Potter," she continued at Harry's Tazer-stunned expression, "I am aware of your quest. And I truly feel that the best place for you in the next nine months to come is at the New Mexico Field College of Magic."

For once, Ron and Hermione were in confederation against an uncertain Harry.

"Think of the educational opportunities!" (Guess who).

"We could learn some real fighting skills!"

"The American Southwest is one of the culturally richest and historically significant places in the world, Harry!"

"Mate, think of flying in the desert!"

"Alright, alright," Harry complained. "Let me think."

But two out of three were convinced, and the decision was made. The three would depart for the New Mexico Field College of Magic on September 1. As the rest of their peers returned to elf-cooked meals, warm fires, plenty of quidditch and the Hogwarts library, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would venture out into what was for all intents and purposes, the unknown.


End file.
